


No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way

by runaway_train



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cam Boy Louis, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Hatred (sort of), Smut, Student Harry, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 13:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runaway_train/pseuds/runaway_train
Summary: Harry is well aware he should be studying or watching T.V or cleaning the kitchen or doing literally anything from a list as long as his arm instead of this, but he is. The list of reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this is probably at least double that, but here he most definitely is. He’s sitting on his bed, legs straight out in front of him, back propped up against the headboard and some fluffed-up pillows and his MacBook is resting on his thighs. His jittery fingers drum lightly on the edge of the keyboard as he stares at the tiny digital clock in the top right hand corner of the screen, willing the seconds to tick by faster. He wants to get into this and get it over with in equal measures.OrThe one where Harry has a particular desire that only Louis can fulfil.





	No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this even is, but it was in my head for a while and thought I would give it a whirl. 
> 
> I also have a Tumblr which is [here](http://runaway-train-works.tumblr.com) if you want to say hello. The specific post for this fic is [here](http://runaway-train-works.tumblr.com/post/181725374540/no-one-but-you-got-me-feeling-this-way-by).
> 
> Title is from ['Perfect Strangers' by Grace Grundy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-wdPxmpyFE) (I prefer this version to the Jonas Blue one)

Harry is well aware he should be studying or watching T.V or cleaning the kitchen or doing literally anything from a list as long as his arm instead of this, but he is. The list of reasons _why_ he shouldn’t be doing this is probably at least double that, but here he most definitely is. He’s sitting on his bed, legs straight out in front of him, back propped up against the headboard and some fluffed-up pillows and his MacBook is resting on his thighs. His jittery fingers drum lightly on the edge of the keyboard as he stares at the tiny digital clock in the top right hand corner of the screen, willing the seconds to tick by faster. He wants to get into this and get it over with in equal measures.

His torso is naked but Harry’s left his joggers on, because even though no-one will see him, he feels more comfortable starting things off with a least something covering his dick. Makes him feel less seedy for some reason, as if he’s bringing a sense of decorum to the proceedings. He’s really not. He’s also got earphones in, because the walls are thin and if his flatmate ever found out what he was doing, Harry’s life would probably be over. Yeah, call him dramatic, but if any of his friends or loved ones found out exactly what he was doing, his life would most certainly be over, at least the life as he currently knows it. He had checked the door was locked three times before he even sat on the bed.

Harry would be lying if he told you he didn’t know how he got to this point, because he does, all too well. It had started six months ago, when he had been randomly clicking through websites, looking for a particular style of video, with a very particular style of performer, and he happened to stumble across a page that turned his world upside down in an instant. There on the screen, in high definition no less, was the most beautiful person Harry had ever seen; ‘Louis, Just Turned 18’, the tagline announced him as, or as he was better know, ‘LouLou28’, the online cam boy.

It was like falling down the rabbit hole after that day. Harry had tried his absolute hardest not to watch him, because he knew the more he did, the more obsessed he was going to get, but he simply couldn’t help himself. It was all right there, his wildest fantasies at his finger tips, only a couple of clicks away from the private safety of his bedroom. To begin with he only watched Louis’ previously recorded videos, but the temptation was too strong a tide in his gut and head and soon enough, Harry was watching the live shows too, knowing that there were probably a whole host of other men watching. That made Harry sick. The only way he could stomach the thought at all was that he reasoned to himself that none of the men were touching Louis, none of them got to really _be_ with him, and he also reasoned that Louis had bills to pay, and if he could make a pretty penny by looking like the prettiest boy there ever was and getting himself off online, then so be it. But what Harry wouldn’t do to stop it all, to have Louis all to himself. That list was positively infinite.

Harry had always known that viewers could book private sessions with particular demands, but because he didn’t want to be _that_ guy, he had never relented to the idea, choosing to stick to the public forums, tipping a few quid here and a few quid there. He was sure Louis got hundreds of private requests, he must, looking the way he does and doing the things he can do so well, but Harry dreaded to think what some of those would be. He had seen enough in the public comments section to know that Louis appealed to a wide variety of kinks.

Then, just last week, Harry got stupidly drunk on his birthday, and had stumbled home to an empty flat and thought what better way to celebrate than to put a request in and spunk a hundred quid for a one-on-one session with his dream boy. He had filled in the form through the link in Louis’ profile, with a fake name and email address of course, and had sent it off into the world wide web before collapsing into a drunken stupor. When he had remembered what he had done the following day, he had checked the account and there it was, Louis’ email reply telling him that he would be happy to fulfil Harry’s chosen desires and giving him a list of times he was available. Harry wasn’t strong enough to resist. He never had been when it came to Louis.

So now Harry is here, waiting for Louis to come online, both figuratively and literally, and Harry can’t decide if this is the best or worst thing he has ever done to himself.

The screen suddenly springs to life, and Louis comes into view. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, feet still on the floor, in a room that Harry knows all too well by now. Shit. He looks incredible, better than Harry could possibly have imagined, and he’s wearing exactly what Harry thought he would be. Or should be, given the money Harry has forked out, but that’s not worth thinking about.

“Hi baby,” Louis says breathily to the camera, “so happy to see you, missed you so much.” Louis cannot see him, Harry knows this, but it still makes him squirm. “Have you missed me?” Harry nods in spite of himself. Because he has, he always misses Louis whenever he doesn’t see him. Louis leaves a sufficient pause hanging in the air as if he’s getting an answer.

“Mmm,” Louis hums with a gentle smile, “thought you might.” He suddenly looks down startled, like he’s just been reminded of his clothing. He looks back up with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, you don’t mind do you sweetheart? I stole one of your jumpers before you left for your trip, been wearing it all day.” He fists at the fabric on his torso with one hand and pulls at the collar of the oversized, red sweatshirt he’s wearing with the other, nuzzling into the opening and breathing in deeply with a sigh. “Smells like you, it’s so strong. And it’s soft too. Makes me think of you all the time, baby. Like you’re here with me.”

Holy fuck. This is already so much more than Harry could have dreamt up. Harry would guess that most people would think it’s weird that he asked Louis to do the session pretending he was Skyping his boyfriend, given all the kinky shit he could have thought up, but this was what Harry wanted, to see the loving, sweet side of Louis that his other shows didn’t always depict. There were other reasons of course, but Harry pushes them to the back of his mind for now.

Harry’s cock is already rock hard in his joggers, but he had promised himself he’d not do anything about it for as long as he could, to try and make it last and commit as much of this to memory as he can. Not that he isn’t recording it, not that he isn’t probably going to watch this video every day until he can play it in his mind frame by flawless frame without the use of a computer at all. God he’s so fucking pathetic, he thinks. He wriggles to try and take some of the edge off, while he looks his fill of Louis; how his hair is expertly mussed, how his usually shocking blue eyes look sleepy like he’s not long woken from a nap, how his firm thighs are bare except the small, white boxers he has on below the candy apple red. He looks phenomenal. It makes Harry’s heart and stomach and groin ache.

“Wish you were here with me. You’d wrap me up and take care of me wouldn’t you sweetheart, ‘cause you always make me feel so good?” God yes, Harry would take such good care of Louis if he was there, the best care. “Wish you were here to hold me.”

Louis closes his eyes and sighs again, rubbing his cheek and then his neck with the cuff of the jumper, the sleeves too long for his arms. “Been thinking about you so much, about how it feels when you kiss me and hold me close in your big, strong arms.” He plays with the hem of the top where it’s resting on his lap, moving it around, taunting glimpses of the soft, sun-kissed skin of his stomach and hips. Harry has seen him naked countless times, and half dressed even more, but for some reason the threat, the anticipation of what lies ahead makes the blood course white hot through his veins that much harder.

When he opens his eyes again, Louis looks directly into the camera, and into Harry. “Wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me baby, if you were here with me, would you?” No. Hell no. If Harry was there, if he was allowed to, if he was by some miracle granted permission, his hands would be _everywhere,_ exploring and caressing every square millimetre of the perfect, perfect man.

Louis bites at his lip teasingly and brushes his hair off his forehead. “I’ve been naughty though. I’ve been imagining what you would do to me, if you were here. I can’t help it, you’re the best I’ve ever had.” Louis pulls his feet up off the floor one after the other and slides himself further back on the bed. He moves to lie down, so he almost has his back on the mattress but keeps himself propped up slightly on one elbow, keeping his thighs spread, one knee bent, one leg flat out to the side of him. Louis knows his angles well, and from this position Harry can see everything clearly, including the thick bulge in his boxers where the sweatshirt has ridden up his tummy.

“I’ve not touched myself, ‘cause I know you’d want to see it. You want to see me touch myself when I’m thinking about you darling?” Yes, Harry wants to scream at the top of his lungs, but he can’t, because of where he is. And well, if he could be anywhere else than in his room that shares a wall with another bedroom, then he would be. He wishes he could be as loud as he wants to.

“Been thinking about how good it feels when you’re pressed up against me.” Louis starts palming himself with his free hand, releasing a soft mewl at the contact, his head tipping back to show off the curve of his neck and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “The way you feel against my skin.” His lower half gradually starts to rut against the bed as he brings his hand from his clothed dick up to his mouth and sucks on the tips of his fingers. The noise is deliberately loud and sloppy, and then he’s lying down flat and lifting up one side of the jumper to drag a wet trail up his front and pinch his nipple until the bud is peaking.

“God, darling,” Louis mutters, repeating the action on his other nipple, “having your mouth on me feels so fucking good.” Harry can’t wait any longer, he pulls his joggers down passed the curve of his arse so he can get his cock out, hissing as the glossy tip makes contact with the cool air of the room. He wraps a fist around it and squeezes.

Louis’ fingers come back down to dance along the seam where the skin of his stomach meets the material of his boxers, before he wiggles his hips as he shimmies out of the underwear completely and spreads his legs again, his leaking dick fully chubbed up and standing proudly. “Makes me so hard, thinking about your tongue and you lips on me.” Louis’ fingers rake up his bristled thighs as he fidgets on the bed, before reaching out beside him and grabbing a bottle of lube. Harry slowly palms himself as he watches, fascinated, as Louis slicks his digits up and rolls smoothly onto his front, bringing his knees up underneath him to lift his bare arse, displaying his hole for Harry to see. When he reaches behind and hooks the first finger in, telling Harry he imagines it’s his fingers inside him, Harry has to stop touching his dick for a few seconds before he comes right there and then, gripping the laptop if for no other reason than to keep his hands occupied.

One of the greatest things about Louis has always been his voice. He utilises it to his full advantage and expertly tailors the tone and dialogue to what he must determine the situation demands; delicate and quiet sometimes, strong and intense at others or perhaps a little dismissive and cocky when he wants to keep viewers, to keep Harry, firmly on their toes. Up until now, he’s been keeping it light and playful, a hint of need in there for good measure, but the sounds he starts making when he begins to properly stretch himself open, working his way from one finger, to two, to three, the desperate gasps of satisfaction and acknowledgement of how fucking good Harry is with his hands, well they have Harry disintegrating, unable to do anything but drag his palm up and down his throbbing cock and continue to listen intently. In a way it doesn’t actually matter what Louis is doing on the screen, Harry could do nothing but listen to a soundtrack of Louis moaning with pleasure for the rest of his life and be completely content.

When Louis has deemed himself open enough, he rolls himself back over. He’s still got the jumper on, most likely damp with perspiration now where it’s ridden up under his arms, and the skin of his neck has flushed and corded up beautifully. “Fuck, just the thought of getting you inside me almost has me coming baby,” he mumbles, his lips shiny with spit and deep pink now, having been toying with them between his teeth, giving himself a few light strokes of his own dick. Harry wants to tell him ‘no, don’t touch yourself, don’t come until I’m filling you,’ but he can’t, so he looks on, frustrated that he can’t push Louis’ hands away and pin them down by his sides.

The dildo Louis produces from somewhere offscreen is one Harry has seen before, naturally, given the sheer number of times he’s watched him. It’s a navy blue and glittery and kind of ridiculous looking, but it’s better than the flesh-looking ones he’s had in the past. Harry doesn’t like those, makes him think of them as a replacement for the real thing, rather than simply a less than mediocre stopgap when the real thing isn’t to hand, and as ludicrous as that thought probably is. Louis makes an exhibition of wetting it in his mouth for a few seconds before lubbing it up properly and bringing it down to tease at his hole.

This is usually around the point when Harry loses it, because this is usually around the point that Louis seems to let the ‘act’ drop and when he drifts off into his own world, genuinely enjoying himself, almost forgetting he’s even performing. He doesn’t completely of course, being the consummate professional he is, but it’s when he’s slowly fucking himself with the sparkling silicone and hitting the right spots inside to make his legs quiver and his toes curls that Harry can truly imagine that Louis is thinking about him, about what it would be like to have Harry inside him. But Harry manages to keep a modicum of composure despite the storm brewing in his belly, because he needs to see this through to the end. He needs to be aware of every last move Louis makes when for once every move is for Harry and Harry alone.

“You just… you fill me up so fucking well,” Louis murmurs and Harry knows he would, he would stuff Louis right up until he was breathless, until he couldn’t hold on any more and was coming from only the feeling of Harry solid and overwhelming in his tight heat. “It’s like you’re everywhere.” Harry feels overwhelmed. His breathe is ragged and he’s dangling himself on the precipice of coming and he wants to fall so badly but he wants, no he _needs_ Louis to fall first, to watch him unravel while he’s imagining Harry fucking into him deeply, imagining just how good Harry would make him feel, how much Harry would do anything for him, would give him anything and everything he wants and needs and deserves, always.

“I love you so much baby.”

For a split second, Harry isn’t sure if he imagined the words coming from Louis’ mouth, and even if he did, he understands deep down it’s only nonsense, that Louis is saying it for dramatic effect, as part of the illusion, but it doesn’t stop Harry from tightening the grip around his throbbing shaft and coming with a groan he stifles as much as humanly possible, milking himself while mouthing ‘I love you too’ at the boy on the screen.

Harry does though, which is the truly awful thing. He loves Louis. He knows he shouldn’t and he knows it’s sick and wrong and no-one would understand how and why he got himself into this mess but that doesn’t change the fact that Harry loves Louis so fucking much it’s agonising. It’s not just an obsession, it’s true love. True, pathetic, hopeless, unrequited love. 

Louis’ come now, all over his own stomach and he’s discarded the dildo while he pants air back into his lungs. He runs his fingers through the come and brings them up to the lips, proceeding to lick them clean while he sits up and leers at the camera. Now that they’ve both orgasmed though, the gratuitous move seems somewhat vulgar and tasteless to Harry, makes him feel unclean. And it’s not how Harry would let things finish anyhow. If Harry was there with Louis, he would hold him close as Louis came down, keep his pliant body tucked snuggly and safely underneath him, kiss his soft mouth and his gorgeous face and the feverish skin of his neck above the jumper he still has on and breathe in his sweaty skin and his radiant afterglow. Harry would tell him for the hundredth time how gorgeous he is, how much he adores him and how utterly sublime it is to be with him in this way. Then, and only then, would Harry pull away long enough to clean Louis up with a tender touch. All Harry wants to do is take care of Louis, to dote on him, to cherish and fawn over and praise him. If only.

“That was good darling, hope you enjoyed that as much as I did,” Louis says to the computer, to Harry. “Maybe we can do it again when you’re on your next trip,” he adds with a wink, ever the salesman, before reaching forward and disconnecting the feed.

Harry stares at the now black screen for a few seconds. He’s so disgusted with himself he wants to gouge his own eyes out. He shouldn’t have done that. He’s made a bad situation so much fucking worse for himself and he should have left this whole thing well alone six fucking months ago.

Harry doesn’t move from the bed for an hour. He’d have stayed hidden away longer, submerged in his own guilt and shame until he’s punished himself enough but he’s thirsty and hungry and he knows he left dishes in the sink, so he pulls his joggers back up and throws on a t-shirt and pads through to the kitchen quietly.

He’s finishing off the last couple of plates when his flatmate walks into the room behind him.

“Hey Haz, you alright?”

Harry doesn’t bother turning around as he greets him, his hands still almost elbow deep in the bubbly water. “Yeah, good thanks, you?”

“Yeah, not too bad. Boring day, just been studying and chatting to my mum,” he responds.

“Same here. Well, the studying bit, not chatting to your mum.”

Harry gets a giggle and friendly palm stroking down his back in response, as the fridge door gets pulled open beside him. “Well wouldn’t surprise me if you were, she thought you were great when she met you.” Harry turns around to say something else but his whole body jerks in shock, splashing the cooling dish water around. “You alright there?”

“Yeah, no, sorry, I’m fine. Um… I was just a bit surprised to see you still wearing my jumper, that’s all,” Harry tells him.

“Oh,” he looks down at the red fabric, now teamed with black shorts, then back up at Harry before pulling out a can of Diet Coke from one of the shelves in the fridge. “You don’t mind do you? Was still cold after borrowing it last night, and it’s so cozy. I can wash it and give it back if you want?”

“No, Louis, it’s cool, keep it as long as you need. It’s really not a problem,” Harry mumbles, wondering if Louis’ still got traces of come on his belly underneath the cotton layer.

“Yeah? Cheers Hazza. Anyways, best be off, these Shakespeare sonnets aren’t going to read themselves. We still on for Game Of Thrones later?”

“Course mate.” Louis leaves him with a nod and a smile and saunters out the room, leaving Harry unable to do anything but stare after him.

It had started six months ago, when Harry had been randomly clicking through websites, looking for a particular style of video, with a very particular style of performer, and he happened to stumble across a page that turned his world upside down in an instant. There on the screen, in high definition no less, was the most beautiful person Harry had ever seen; his flatmate of a year, the same flatmate Harry had been secretly in love with since he first met him, Louis Tomlinson. He just had no idea up until that point that Louis had had secrets of his own.

And then Harry had fallen down the rabbit hole.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much reading. 
> 
> I also have a Tumblr which is [here](http://runaway-train-works.tumblr.com) if you want to say hello. The specific post for this fic is [here](http://runaway-train-works.tumblr.com/post/181725374540/no-one-but-you-got-me-feeling-this-way-by) if you want to be a total legend and give it a share.
> 
> Comments and feedback is welcomed and always responded to :-D


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